Not a Hero
by guineapiggie
Summary: "From the moment they first set eyes on each other, someone somewhere had decided upon their story's ending. The ink of the last dot on the last i had dried the moment they shook hands." 838 word drabble, inspired by "Run, you clever boy" and other Doctor Who quotes (and the inevitable bit of Sherlock for the title).


**Not a Hero**

**DISLAIMER:** I hold no right to any of the shows used or referenced, no money is made of this.

**_*A/N* So, I've stumbled over a handful of Doctor Who quotes, added a Sherlock quote and wrote this... enjoy!_**

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She'd always known that this was how it would end, deep down, as much as she might have hoped she could change it. From the moment they first set eyes on each other, someone somewhere had decided upon their story's ending. The ink of the last dot on the last i had dried the moment they shook hands.

When she'd been a child, Teresa had loved science fiction stories, thrown herself headfirst into the most marvellous of fairy tales – time travel, running, miracles, changing the past, changing the future, saving the world.

But then she'd done the one thing her heroes had told her never to do. Teresa had grown up.

And the running was the only thing that remained, because Teresa had discovered the big secret, the one big, blatantly obvious lie that made it all work:

The past, the present, the future – it was set in stone, and though one might be able to change a small thing or another, the outcome would always be the same.

And now, standing in that peaceful little park, robbed of her car keys, her gun and her heart alike, she felt the loss of that belief in miracles with even more force than she had back when she had first realised that it was not true.

She didn't know if she had managed to convince everyone else, but she had sure as hell convinced herself that she knew and accepted the ending.

But there she was, staring after Patrick, and didn't need the stinging in her eyes to tell she had been lying to herself. She _had _been stupid and romantic enough to hope again – because of him.

He was such a little boy sometimes, with his glorious smile and that mischievous glint in his sapphire blue eyes, jumping around and making jokes. Pulling off the most amazing, most impossible stunts without effort, saving her more times than she cared to count, making her laugh and cry in equal measure – he bore such uncanny resemblance to her childhood heroes, and despite everything, he had restored her belief in heroes.

She'd made him into a hero, she thought furiously, tears spilling down her cheeks. She'd made Patrick Jane into a hero, giving him no choice but to disappoint her the day he accomplished his goal. He was out to kill Red John ever since they'd met, she'd known it – and yet still, she had idolised him. Damn wretched fool that she was.

For all those years, she had shut out that other side of him – the boy forced to grown up, that man so full of fury and grief and helplessness that he couldn't sleep at night, that turned cold and cruel at the slightest incentive, killed without blinking. The man so obsessed with finding Red John he had covered all his walls with pictures of bloodshed though they gave him nightmares. The man that had betrayed her, lied to her, abandoned her, time and time again, and she'd let him.

Because she hadn't wanted to see who he really was.

Because the Patrick Jane she'd fallen in love with, complete with golden hair and bright eyes like the sea in summer, the most dazzling of smiles and the most magnificent tricks up his sleeve – he was nothing but a ghost and he didn't have the power to keep the monster at bay.

He was out for blood, and blood was what he would get.

Everything had played out exactly as foreseen, all of them nothing but pieces on a chessboard, actors on a stage.

_We don't show comedies here, Miss Lisbon. We only perform tragedies – don't tell me you didn't know that._

She bit her lip and could have screamed with fury. The universe was probably having a good laugh about her, the powerless, helplessly romantic little puppet pulling at her strings to no avail.

_She'd been so fucking childish._

Eyes swimming in angry tears, she stared after him, took a deep breath and forced herself to accept the inevitable: in less than a day, it would all be over and she would never see him again.

Teresa Lisbon had played her part.

She was on her own now, exactly where she'd been ten years before when he'd stumbled out of that elevator, except now she had nothing left. She could not for the life of her remember what her existence had been about before she'd met him – probably her job.

Well, she didn't have that one anymore, either.

_Deep breaths._

He would get his revenge, that was the one good thing about it. Did he deserve it?

Who was she to judge?

But Red John would be dead, the nightmare would be over… and the next night, they'd probably dream a new one.

There would always be another demon to hunt – but this particular one, the one who'd become all their personal nightmare, he would be gone.

Wasn't that what she'd always wanted?

A tiny smile fought on her lips.

_Run, Patrick. Run, you clever boy… and remember me._

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**_Quotes:_**

_"__-Time can be rewritten!" "-Don't you dare." –_ from "The Wedding of River Song", Doctor Who

(I would have added a quote about running since Doctor Who is basically about time travel and there's "an outrageous lot of running involved" ("The Doctor's Daughter), but I couldn't really find one that fit the mood, so you'll just have to take my word for it. There's A LOT of running and miracles and saving the world in this show.)

"_I've disappointed you. […] Don't make people into heroes, John, heroes don't exist and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them." _–from "The Great Game", Sherlock

"_In over a thousand years of running around, saving the universe, here's the one thing I learned: the universe doesn't care." – _from "The Snowmen", Doctor Who

"_Run, you clever boy. And remember me." – _from "The Name of the Doctor", Doctor Who

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